The Marauders Legacy
by GoldenJackal
Summary: A legacy. The one piece of yourself you leave behind. Whether its money, family heir looms, a house, or even a simple journal. And it just so happens that the Marauders left behind a legacy of their own. One that little Harry Potter managed to find at a young age, and it just may change the course of history. Its a good thing they didn't burn it like Lily told them too.


**Hey guys so this is a story about the next generation of Marauders going to Hogwarts, pulling pranks and fighting Voldemort. I've got a bit of an obsession with crossovers and I love Percy Jackson and Harry Potter so thats why this story is like this. So I hope you like it, here's chapter 1!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson or Harry**

 **Chapter. 1~ The Attics Secret**

Ever since he'd lost his parents at the tender age of one young Harry Potter had been a shy, quiet child. He grew up with his aunt Petunia - a tall horse faced women with a long neck, sickly pale skin, and straw like blond hair - and uncle Vernon - a man who held a closer resemblance to a walrus than an actual human being, he had more hair on his face than on his head with a large black mustache and watery blue eyes. Together the two had a son, Dudley, the boy was twice Harry's size and it was clear that he took after his father for even at the age of five the boy looked more like a fat pig rather than a human toddler.

Together the three made up the Dursley family, the last living blood relatives to Lily Potter née Evans and young Harry's only family. The four lived in a perfectly normal house in a perfectly normal neighborhood and if anyone were to have asked about any strange occurrences happening at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging Surrey they would've been laughed right out-of-town. Though there weren't many who knew of the Dursley's nephew, and if they did - well they couldn't say much, they only knew what the Dursley's said of him. Horror stories that turned the five-year old into a demon. The neighbors looked at the Dursley's as if they were saints for even letting the boy breath in their presents.

But they didn't know of the real monsters.

The Dursley's had never liked Petunias sister, and they never wanted to be stuck with her child, but they knew kicking the boy out wasn't an option, so instead they treated him like a slave. They taught him to cook the day he was old enough to see over the stove, and clean the house before that. The boy was forced to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs, and received little to no food for days on end. Always being punished for things that he could not possibly control.

But all of this changed the day of his fifth birthday. For most children this meant presents, love, parties, and cake. For Harry it meant more chores than usual along with the occasional beating. The day to him held no special significance besides pian and suffering. And so Harry dreaded the thought of every July 31st, terrified of what the day may hold.

It was on that day his aunt dragged him from his little cupboard under the stairs and up to the second story - he wasn't often allowed up there, his family saying it was no place for freaks like him. His fears only grew when she sent him up a rickety old ladder into a room he'd never seen before.

It was the attic. A place the Dursley's had forgotten about for years themselves.

His aunt had told him he wasn't to come down until the entire space was absolutely spotless. But if that were the case Harry figured he'd be stuck up there until his next birthday.

The Dursley's attic was an absolute horror story. Dust spread like a blanket across every available surface. Moldy boxes staked in unstable towers to create an unnavigable maze. A musty smell hung in the humid air making it difficult to breathe. The only light came from a small circular window on the far right wall, but it did little to cover the large space.

Harry grimaced, _What a nightmare._

Emerald eyes scanned the surrounding area as he looked for a place to start. His old trainers left imprints in the dust as he crossed the attic floor and his overly baggy cloths brushed against boxes stirring up dust which Harry couldn't help but breath in. He began cough and started waving his hand in-front of his face, but this only disperced it even farther. Dust flew into his face burning his eyes and forcing him to squeeze them shut. He tried to take another step forward but ended up tripping over his too big shoes and crashing into a pile of boxes. They fell to the floor with a defining bang.

Harry's head wiped towards the hatch leading back down to the landing. He didn't dare move a muscle as he waited for the monstrous below of his uncle to echo throughout the house. He held his breath as he waited, but nothing came. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. His uncle was always looking a reason to yell at him, it was odd that he chose not to when Harry had just made such a racket, something the Dursley's hated oh so much.

Ever so slowly Harry crept towards the small window and hoisted himself up, balancing dangerously on a stack of old boxes, the pile wobbled uncertainly under his weight, but held. He peeked out the window and glanced out over the front yard. As always everything was neatly trimmed, not a single blade out-of-place, the flowerbeds were free of weeds, having been cleaned out just the day before, a single tree sat in the Dursley's front lawn, just like every other yard on the block. The only thing missing was his uncle Vernon's new station wagon which no longer sat in the driveway.

The Dursley's had left, and they'd gone without him. Harry found this quite confusing as they'd never left him alone in the house…ever. They didn't trust him. Harry glanced over his shoulder at the over turned boxes and winced.

 _Evidently they were right not too._

Harry hurried down from his makeshift ladder and over towards the mess.

He made quick work of turning the boxes back over before opening them in a hurry. He didn't want his aunt and uncle to come home and blame him for breaking anything, even though their accusations would be right for once. With them out of the house he'd be able to get the glue and fix it before they got back, or at least hide the pieces somewhere they'd never find them.

He didn't know what he'd find when he opened the first box. He didn't know that when she was young his mother had lived in this very house. He never expected his aunt to keep anything even remotely related to his parents. Then again, if Petunia had known what was in those boxes she would have burnt them a long time ago. But she didn't know, so here the boxes had stayed, and here they would have stayed had she not sent her nephew to clean out a space she had forgotten even existed.

Harry hadn't planned on snooping, he really hadn't. He knew if his aunt and uncle ever found out he did they'd punish him severely. But the box had been full of such wonderous things, things that his aunt and uncle would never allow in their house. Which made them very interesting to Harry's ever-growing curiosity. And so, for the first time, Harry Potter did not do as he was told. Instead he started rummaging through the items that only seemed to grow in oddity the further he got.

Four old jackets, made of a leather like material Harry had never seen before, all of them with a large golden M stitched into the back (he wondered what it stood for). A set of books with strange titles like _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ and _Magical Drafts and Potions._ Harry bit his lip and glanced around the enclosed space, he was nervous, even though he knew no one was there, before flipping the first book open. And there on the inside cover was a name, one he had heard but never thought he would see, _This book is property of_ **James Potter.**

The book slipped from between Harry's limp fingers and landed on the ground with a dull _thud._

He glanced back towards the boxes. These were his parents things. His aunt told him that all their belongings had been lost in a house fire just a week after the accident. But as he stared down at the book by his feet it was clear she'd been lying. Could she have lied about other things too.

Now Harry knew his family didn't like his, but it was alright he had never really liked them either. They had always been mean and cruel, but he'd thought they cared about him at least a little. But they were lying to him. The evidence was glaringly obvious. So if they were lying to him, then it was okay for him not listen to them, a realization that made perfect sense to his five-year old mind. A smile slowly spread across the young boys face, one that promised trouble and chaos. Before Harry could think of what he was doing he had the boxes contents scattered across the attic floor and was kneeling in the middle of the pile.

Harry forgot that he was supposed to be cleaning. He forgot about what his family would do if they found him like this. He forgot everything he had ever been told. His only focus being on the objects surrounding him, but there was one thing in particular that had caught his attention.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of the pile was an old leather-bound journal. In the center of the cover was another embroidered golden _M_. The journal wasn't in the best shape, the leather was scuffed and had what looked like burn marks scattered all across the front, but that's not what drew Harry to it. No, what made this journal so interesting to him was that it was blank, or at least it appear be.

It was quite obvious to him that the journal was well used, yet each sheet he turned to was as white as the day it had been purchased-not even a finger print graced its pages. And of course this piqued the five-year olds interest.

His aunt and uncle were always going on about how freaks and oddities were infesting the world for all the perfectly normal people out there. Harry had always found these kinds of things intriguing (though he didn't dare say that out loud).

Harry flipped through the journal slowly, inspecting each page and examining every detail. Nothing. He was just about to set the book aside and move onto the other objects when a piece of paper fluttered out from between the pages and landed at his feet.

Green eyes sparkling with curiosity the young boy reached down and brought the paper up to his face. It was thicker than he was use to and looked to be quite a few years old, crumpled and yellowing slightly at the edges, and when he turned it over there it was. A name, his name, was scrawled messily across its front in neon blue ink. For a moment the boy could do nothing but stare at it.

With shaking hands he slowly pealed open what he now recognized as a letter, he'd never gotten a letter before.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _If your reading this it means your mother and I are no longer with you. Harry I want you to know that your mother and I love you very much._

 _I'm writing this letter to you now so that you know just how much we love you. The journal you now hold was once mine. When I was in school my friends and I formed a group of sorts. We called ourselves the Marauders, back then we weren't the most sensitive of people and I dearly hope you'll listen to me when I say that I carry that regret with me every day of my life, but we were as close as brothers._

 _I'm writing this letter to you now in hopes that you find friends like that one day too, but it's also to warn you. We pulled pranks and caused mayhem. We never meant anything by it, at the time we thought we were being funny, but after I met your mother I realized just how bad it was. Most of our jokes were just for fun, they made our peers laugh, but we took it too far, we became bullies._

 _I hope that one day you find the same joys that I knew, but I must to warn you not to take it too far. Pull pranks, play jokes, and have fun, but never become the bully._

 _Your mother and I love you Harry, and we always will. The book is magic and to open it you must say the password, just place your finger on the cover and repeat the following, I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. To close do the same and say Mischief managed._

 _With all my love, your Father, James Potter the mighty Prongs!_

 _P.S. If you happened to find this but your mother and I are still alive please don't show it too her. We promised her we burned this book years ago._

Harry read the letter over three times, partly because he couldn't believe it, but also because he was only just learning to read. There were tears in his eyes. It was the only thing he had ever hoped for, a memory of his parents. Something of their's he could have for as long as he lived. But it wasn't just one thing, it was boxes upon boxes of them.

His things, things that the Dursley's didn't know about, things that he needed to hide.

 **Hope you guys liked it! I'll hopefully have the next chapter out soon (this one did take a while so it may be a bit before that happens)! This one will be about Percy! As always please favorite, follow, and review. Maybe you can guess who the other Marauders will be, hint besides these two there are three others. See you next time!**


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